


Nyctophilia

by TwilightRegalia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anorexia, Burning, Crying, Cutting, Depression, EDNOS, Eating Disorders, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Purging, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightRegalia/pseuds/TwilightRegalia
Summary: Twilight isn’t as happy as she wishes she were. But that’s okay, because she has a friend now that helps her. His name is Death, but she calls him Anubis because she likes it better. An awesome friend, Anubis, very loving and soothing. And he wants her to stay alive.





	Nyctophilia

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This story is rated T for suicidal thoughts, self-harm, eating disorders, and major depression. TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE THINGS WILL TRIGGER YOU.
> 
> Note: Inspired by artwork by Shin Haenuli. This story will be updated off and on, but it has no exact conclusion, plot, or climax. It’s more of journaling.

_What’s in Twilight’s playlist?_

_“What is happening to me? Tell me, what does all this mean? So far away from reality. “What a lovely place to be,” I tell myself, because every second like this feels like Hell. Are these words that you gave me real? I can’t tell. It doesn’t matter, because nothing matters. I’ll see you again in a dream so far away.”_

_―“Circles” by GUMI_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

Twilight is a happy girl. Her family loves her, she has no physical problems, she makes good grades, and she has amazing friends. So she’s happy.

That’s what I tell myself at least.

The night everything started was really simple. Honestly, no one would think anything of it.

But it’s hard. It’s fall break, and I get to spend almost a week with my best friend, Chloe. But it’s getting later now, and Chloe is on Snapchat, video chatting with her boyfriend. I don’t mind. I volunteered to let her use my data to do the call, and besides, I have another friend that I can talk to now when she’s with her guy. The friend, Asher, I don’t know him extremely well yet; I’ve actually only known him for a month, but he’s awesome, and I think I already consider him my other best friend.

But tonight, I don’t know. It’s weird. And I tell Asher that. I tell him that I feel dark. He doesn’t understand, asks what’s wrong. But I can’t tell him what’s wrong when I don’t understand it myself.

And that’s how it all starts. The next night is the same way, and while Chloe talks to her boyfriend again, I sit in bed and write. I text Asher and write down the texts that I feel like give my emotions the most form. I title the writing “Glass Box” because that’s how I explain it to Asher. I’m in a box in the ocean, a glass box fifty feet below the surface. I can see everyone swimming and laughing and choking in the water. And that water is emotion. The glass is my logic. I don’t like not understanding, getting caught up in useless feelings. Drowning. But that’s how I feel. I’m drowning.

The next evening, before Chloe has to go home, Asher, she, and I go to a corn maze. The maze itself is fun, yes, but the three of us sit together on a two-person bench swing. Asher sits in the middle because he’s six-three and has long legs, so if he sits on the end, he makes the swing wobble. Chloe and I lean our heads on his shoulders. I think about that sometimes; it’s one of my favorite memories.

That night though, that’s when it happens. Asher is texting me about his own worries and thoughts, because it’s a friendship, not a therapy session, and I want to do everything I can to help him, too, even if it’s just listening. So I’m in bed, texting him and listening to music.

The light flickers for a moment. Then there’s something beside my bed. And it’s a bunk bed, mind you, and being at eye-level with a skeleton is not what I’m used to on my Thursday nights.

I’m not scared though. Shouldn’t I be scared?

The skeleton seems to smile at me. “Hi, Twilight.”

I blink.

After a moment, it crosses its arms on the edge of my bed, leaning forward. “You should be scared of me.”

I set my phone down on my lap and murmur, “I should be.”

“Do you know who I am?” it asks. Its voice is like the wind, beautiful and destructive, chilling to the bones and yet soothing. I realize that I can hear the voice through my headphones, through the music playing in my ears.

“No,” I reply, and I pull my headphones down around my neck.

“I am Death.” It tilts its head, and I feel like it’s staring at me. I feel a soft gaze on me, full of love and admiration, all from those empty eye sockets, and I really don’t understand how, but nothing makes sense anymore anyways. “The fact that you aren’t scared of me means that you would be just as happy or happier if you were dead.”

I shrug. “I just don’t think you’re that scary.”

Death hums. “That’s why I’m here.” After a moment, he―I’ll say “he” now because “death” always seems male in culture―continues, “See, Life and I decide the whole birth and death thing for every person. Whenever someone starts to feel like it’s their time to die when it’s not, I come personally to…prevent it. Or at least help to make sure it’s not a rash decision or something like that. Ease the pain and such.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because you’re important to the world.” His jaw bone moves again in a way that resembles smiling. “I love people, but people are supposed to love Life. When a person begins to love me more than Life, so much is lost for the person and for everyone else.”

And I can believe that, I guess. I can for everyone else at least. Not for me.

That night, when I go to sleep, I occasionally here the clink of bones as Death wanders my bedroom. I don’t mind. Even when he begins to sing a lullaby in his ghostly voice, I sigh in contentment at the smooth melody wrapping me in comfort.

_“Nyctophilia, love for the night._

_“The moon overhead, she shines her light._

_“Just you wait, darling; your wings will grow,_

_“But until then, ‘til you take flight,_

_“Keep you in my arms and never let go.”_


End file.
